I may have told this before, but it's been quite awhile if I have. I did have it up on FB too, so if you've seen it there feel free to ignore.

But for everyone else...

Each year - I try and write something for the holidays. One year it was the legend of the Christmas truce in WWI where soldiers from both sides met in no man's land to exchange holiday greetings to sing carols. Another time it was a note about a friend who'd passed away (Crazed Weasel if you're wondering) and the meaning of that.



This year - I'd like to share a personal story. It didn't happen on or around Christmas, in fact it took place over several months. Nonetheless it occurs to me that it might be a worthy story for this time of year nonetheless. It's longer than I'd planned, but please - try and read through to the end. I hope it will be worth it for you.



Like my legend of the red scarf, it too is a true story and also one from my days doing sword fighting.



Many years ago, I became involved with a very lovely young woman. It was her idea and it turned into a very short whirlwind romance but we really very much liked one another. We wanted to continue our relationship - but we lived in different countries and what's more she was moving to a remote northern city in the near future. We drifted apart, lost touch and didn't see each other again for years.



I found out that one of the reasons we lost touch was a person who set out to deliberately sabotage our relationship in hopes of bedding this girl himself. Lies were told, deceits happened, and a relationship between myself and this fellow created in her mind that never existed. Eventually, I found out about this.



To call me furious would have been saying that a tornado is 'a little windy.' This person went onto the list of people I literally hated. The list of people I would have gladly called out to a duel and killed had we lived in a different society. He stayed there for a very very long time.



We moved, this man and I, in very different circles. The edges touched but for the most part we had no contact. I was not the only person he had wronged either. He had many detractors and for good reason in most cases. He was not a nice person.



Twenty years passed.



I'm in our room, teaching people how to fight with swords. At that particular time I was the senior active fighter in the group. I did a lot of training for new folks. Teaching them to be safe, to be effective, to know how to manage a combat, find openings, how to fight not only well, but also honorably. It was a big responsibility. One I took on myself because there was no one else to do it and one which I took very very seriously.



And in walks this fellow, back into my life. He wants to get involved with the group. Fine. I can ignore him.



He wants to learn to fight. Damn. NOW what do I do?



One does not fight, or even spar, with people one has strong negative feelings for. It isn't done. That's because it isn't safe. Fighting with swords, even wooden ones, can be dangerous. People can be hurt and sometimes hurt badly. I've powdered half inch thick plywood shields in just a few blows when fighting hard. One time I snapped a fellow's collarbone like it was a dry twig - and that was with a weapon that was difficult to get a decent, hard hit out of. I'm not proud of hurting that fellow - and he was very nice about it - but it gives you an idea of the kind of injury you can do. That's why I didn't feel I could fight with him.



Had there been an option, I'd have asked someone else - someone without the history - to train this man. But at that time, I was it. There just wasn't anyone else who was reliably there for me to ask to handle his training.



I could refuse of course. That didn't feel right. It would mean airing the reason out to everyone and that just felt crass and wrong. As much as I was still angry and hurt, I just couldn't do that. In the end I decided on a compromise. I would teach him, but not spar with him. Slow work, forms, instruction, critique, those I could do without risking anyone's safety. For sparring, when he was ready, I could match him with other new students. Not ideal, but it would work and I would satisfy my responsibility as an instructor and my honor bound requirement of fighting safely and without anger.



Well, I did what I thought was best and taught the fellow.



I learned that twenty years is a very long time.



I learned - as one does just through interaction, that this man had wasted some of his life, then followed his dreams, become the paramedic he'd always wanted to be. Worked hard. Gotten married. Had a son whom he LOVED so much and doted on so proudly that I couldn't believe it. Gotten divorced. Had people die in his arms. Saved people's lives too. Been injured so that he could no longer do his dream job. He cared about people. Had seen them in ways many others don't get to.



This was - well to be honest this was not the same man that I'd known. Not at all. Life had changed him. What he had once done, he would never consider doing now. It would never even cross his mind. But what to do about it? I still didn't know for SURE I was right in my estimation of the person he now was. But I was sure he had changed.



Due to his past, many others belittled him, held his history against him and wouldn't even talk to him. I saw this. Unlike me they hadn't had to get to know the man that they hadn't seen in twenty years. They hadn't seen the change. Couldn't see it. I tried talking to a few of them but mostly it fell on deaf ears.



I gave up my restriction against sparring with him. Never even told him it had been there. I didn't have that anger in my heart anymore. If I hurt him, it would not be through uncontrolled rage but an accident that I would feel as bad about as I would anyone else I fought with.



One night, sitting on the porch of a cabin in the cool of the fall, I told him everything I've written above. I told him all the things that he'd done, all the things I'd held against him and the things other people held against him. It shattered him - because he knew that what he'd done was true and that the anger was for real reasons. He had blame and he knew it. I moved on quickly and told him, "Listen - you have to understand. You are not the person you were twenty years ago. I see that - I found that out while teaching you. They will or they won't. You can't change that. However I see it." I paused for a bit. "We are not friends. You have to understand that. There's too much anger, too much hatred. But that was directed at a man who no longer exists. What matters here - is that we are not enemies either. Not anymore.



"You have changed. Your experiences have made you a different person. While I cannot simply offer you friendship, what I can offer you is this - a blank slate. Our past, never happened. I know only the man you are now. What you choose to write on that slate is up to you. Write well."



He cried then and I gave him the kind of hug one gives a fellow swordsman. A quick clap on the back to signal comradeship and he walked away. To think I guess.



He wrote well. Very well. We became friends and still are friends - even through some fairly difficult times. I am proud to know him.



Remember this, this holiday season. Remember that people can change. That people can make amends and that someone can learn from their mistakes and be better. Remember to forgive when you can - and to forget where that is earned.



A very Merry Christmas, Blessed Yule, Happy Hannukah, Seasons Greetings - and, of course a Happy New Year! However you wish to celebrate this season I wish you and your family all the best.



Mike Major

Dec 15, 2010